


Another Lover

by suspiciouslens



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Comics), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Angst and Porn, F/F, Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 21:44:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suspiciouslens/pseuds/suspiciouslens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phyla-Vell confronts Gamora, but with so much emotion simmering beneath Quasar's surface she goes much farther than she would ever have expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Lover

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was "Gamora/Phylla - hate is hot". The story is set no particular when just after the end of _Annihilation: Conquest_. Went a little angsty, rather than hate-filled.

Quasar's hands slam into the metal walls of the walkway, clenched fists to either side of Gamora's head. Quill may not be willing to call her out but Phyla's not going to let the smug green bitch get away with it. Phyla-Vell's face is only inches away from the warrior-woman's.

"Das't it, you almost got us all killed down there."

There's no witty quip from the green-skinned woman, only the infuriating knowing smile Gamora always seem to have plastered over her face. Phyla is shorter than her and Gamora is wearing high-heels; the woman is looking down on her figuratively and literally. Quasar can feel the fury boiling in her. The quantum bands on her forearms begin to glow, the yellow light adding a strange tone to Gamora's green skin.

"Oh, in Pama's name, how I want to wipe that smirk off your face," she hisses out.

The only response she receives is a wider smugger smile and a shrug of the taller woman's shoulders that hits against Phyla-Vell's anger-tense arms. Quasar sees red for a moment, so filled with hate and fury. Her emotions have been prone to wild surges ever since...

Gamora's clothes come off so easily, just two thin strips of dark green material to slip over shoulders, that Phyla doesn't even notice she's stripped the woman. Not till the heavy skull buckle dragging the whole flimsy outfit down catches in Gamora's thigh-high boots and knocks against Phyla's thigh does she realise what she's done.

Gamora's smile is more than knowing now, not even appraising, just a sexy smirk. Her deep red lips, seeming almost black against her green skin, part. Now she wants to speak! Quasar's doesn't want to hear a das't-blasted word from her now. She surges forward, head twisting slightly as her mouth locks over Gamora's, tongue pushing passed teeth to force her lips apart. To silence whatever the bitch was going to say. Somewhere beneath the hate and anger Phyla-Vell is surprised with herself. She was never this aggressive, never so forceful with...

There's nothing soft about Gamora, no fat on the warrior-woman's body, smooth skin over hard muscle. She's a bruiser, a tank. Nothing yielding; as hard-edged as her personality. 

No, that's not true. Gamora's lips are soft pillows, her mouth warm and welcoming. Quasar's hands find the warrior's breasts. Still furious she grips them hard, groping them brutally. They're large, more than her small hands can hold, as she kneads into them. Gamora's tongue is against hers, she can feel a sigh of pleasure spill into their mouths. The bitch likes it rough. The hate flares again, it feels good to be so angry, to forget for a time...

Phyla's thumbs and index fingers find the hardness at the top of Gamora's perfect breasts, stiff nipples poking forward. She twists them savagely, unconsciously sending a surge of life-energy from her quantum bands down her fingers. The effect on is Gamora is dramatic; her own tongue pushes deep into Quasar's mouth and hands which have hung idle tangle into her short white hair to pull her even deeper into their passionate lustful kiss. 

Gamora's hips buck forward twice. They slam into Phyla with surprising force, reminding her just how strong the target of her hate is. Reminding her too of another part of Gamora's hard body that will be soft and yielding. Hands release Gamora's breasts, snaking down her sides to force her legs apart. They are too slow.

Gamora raises a knee, using it to push Phyla's own legs apart. Quasar growls into the kiss, pushing Gamora harder into the metal wall behind her, angry at having lost the initiative. Gamora's other leg twists to open her sex to her pitiless lover as Phyla's hands slide across tapered waist and down hairless crotch.

Even as Phyla's questing fingers slip across exposed clit, the stiff top of Gamora's thigh-boots pushes into the red spandex that covers Quasar's own enflamed sex. The gilded hard edge divides cold leather from warm flesh. Phyla can feel both through the red spandex of her costume. She pushes down against Gamora's thighs, the friction against her intoxicating. The women's hips push forward together. Phyla rubbing herself with increasing fervor against Gamora's leg, boot edge scraping at her clit, as Gamora pushes herself onto the fingers Phyla pushes inside her.

The pleasure is beginning to overwhelm Quasar, she holds on tighter to her anger. Tries to concentrate. Gamora struts about Knowhere as if she owns the place. She's cut a swathe through the populace. A dozen species, two dozen lovers. Quasar can tell when she's fucked one of them, the extra sway in her strut, the satisfaction in her smile. Phyla-Vell is not another conquest. Phyla-Vell will fuck her so hard she won't be able to walk. 

Quasar has two fingers in Gamora's hot pussy already, squeezed by the green-skinned woman's immense muscles. She pushes another in, feeling the tightness. Her hate drives the fourth slipping deep into warmth and wetness. Pushing in as hard and deep as she can manage. Gamora's tongue and thrusting hips tell her how much she enjoys being taken hard like this. Phyla was always a gentle lover with...

"Oh Pama," Phyla is so close. Gamora's cunt is clenching hard around her fingers as they curl in her. Phyla has to breathe, she breaks the kiss and takes a great shuddering breath. They thrust their hips together, exploding into orgasm as one. As if they were real lovers. 

" **Heather** , oh yes!" Phyla screams.

* * *

Gamora holds the sobbing woman to her chest, gently stroking her short white hair. The others would have tried clever words. They do not value the physical enough, too caught up in their alien rituals of guilt and "manners". The crying woman, normally so strong, needed to be touched and held. Needs simply to be.


End file.
